


Wild Ones

by NeonBananas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Alternative Lifestyles, Art, Badass, College, DJ - Freeform, Design, Drugs, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Family Issues, First work - Freeform, Flirting, Freedom, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Introspection, Jealously, Kissing, Mental Health Issues, Music, Original Characters - Freeform, Party, Psychotropic Drugs, Real Life, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship(s), Romance, Sex, Sexual Inexperience, Slice of Life, Substance Abuse, Teen Years, Teenage Drama, Urban Life, city, make out, read it, student life, wild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonBananas/pseuds/NeonBananas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are all around 20's, they are all confused, they are all different. And they are all lusting...<br/>Meet the world of Gala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I hate you. I hate you so very much. I hate you with all my body and soul, my hatred for you is so big that I wouldn’t kill you, I would erase your existence If I could. Yes, I’d like to erase you, I’d love to, I want so much to turn your being into nothing, nothing at all. If I were mighthy, you wouldn’t even be a memory. If I could, with this burning flame of anger, I would at least erase your being from my world. From the places I’ve seen you, from the faces where I still see you. I’d erase your smell, your laugh, your arms, your hand holding mine. I’d erase you, the most despicable being I’ve known of. I hate you, I hate knowing that you’re allright, guessing, wondering that you’re allright, that you are waking up at 11 am on saturdays with a hungover. I hate your being, so malicious that even this far away, I can feel it. That’s what I hate the most, that “you” is so strong that I can feel you. I hate you, I hate you. I wanna kill myself because I hate you, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My chest hurts so very much, not because of feeling, but because of emptiness, because of pain. I hate you because you are not even the responsible. I hate you because the emptiness of dead expectations in my heart can never be your fault. I hate you because you only made me happy. I hate you because you punched me, you punched me with ants in my stomach and smiles in my mouth. I hate you because I want you to be guilty, but you couldn’t even do that, you couldn’t even hurt me. You just disappeared, withouth leaving undone promises or big treasons. I hate you because somehow I love you, and you will always be the first to touch my heart and my lips at the same time. You’ll always be in my heart, as that flashy perfect little moment that it’s so perfect, that itself was a story, with a start and an end, and that will never change. Even if my heart longs so long for that rush and simple beauty of that moment, It will never come back again, and I knew the moment you left. I love you, but I can’t, It would ruin everything. So I hate you, because I can’t love you. -Gala


	2. BACKSLIDER

Welcome to Loyola University, home of the wild gooses, and the rich brats with not much interest in studying. It’s college, but them she goose’s do have a uniform: Leggings, ferragamo ballerinas, oversized overpriced big bag, and last but definitely not least, 5 dollar big chai latte from Gaultheria, our gooses’ favorite coffee shop. Today’s Friday, so the foreign gooses and some sons of cool parents will party at club 45, Buchannan’s and Moet, and a little coke at the after party, but just for the boys. Girl gooses are good girls, well dressed, so that they can marry a rich assholes who will fuck with whores and secretaries behind their backs, but they’ll be the happy wifeys with the trips to the Caribe and a year Mercedes, and that’s the important thing.

But don’t worry, this isn’t another gossip girl. We are not going to talk about Blahniks and catfights at daddy’s yatchs. Let’s take a look around, if you look closely, you’ll find the middle class cool folks and the scholarship bookworms, and also the hippie and hipsters who don’t give a fuck about their money, you can even find this interesting blue hair punk styled chick, because despite of its fame, not everyone here is a brainless junior. 

Lets look for a boy, or a girl, better girls; they’re way more exciting. Serious but not too serious, so that you can love her, and hate her too but just in your inner soul. And oh, there she is. One of our fellow Loyola girls, not that different, yet not quite the same. She aint wearing ballerinas, but she do have a pair around there, and she carries her expensive laptop in a dirty backpack and a Warhol case. It’s 10:40 am and she’s sitting by the lake, green earphones and leather jacket. 

Sitting there, like that, she looked like a portrait from nowhere. Well, this famous college had quite the gardens, and like a good goose she loved chilling in the green areas. A bench with wild nature all around, with dangerous and yet so irresistible looking flowers and leaves, but still It was all so utterly designed that it couldn’t be anything but beautiful, just like her. She is dressed like a Ramone, converse and The Stooges shirt, but no one would believe her with the golden chestnut hair that shimmered with the morning sun, her raspberry lips and long tanned legs. In fact, with those natural colors, she’d never look like a real punk, but she would have liked to. It looked all so beautiful seen from afar, everything around her looked beautiful in that exact moment. She wasn’t a supermodel like beauty, didn’t have perfect pale skin and blue gray mysterious eyes, but yet she somewhat stood from the crowd, always. Her name was Galadriel, “just Gala” as she always introduced, yeah, that’s better.

Gala sounded so different, but she was quite the same, at least in her mind. At her 20’s, she was a rebel party girl, but she did the laundry and looked for something more than a nice face with boys, she was maturing, and it was weird but just natural. She worried about her future, but wanted to live her present so hard. Just like any other 20 year old. 

Although she looked so different, and liked very different things than many of the girls there, that was just on the outside, on the inside she was looking for a place in the world, one that could make her happy and admirable, just like all of them. But the outside is what had her trapped, because they all thought she was so interesting, wild, though, perfect. All things that she’d never use to describe herself, and she never listened, she only listened to the sad bullshit inside her. She was that kind of girl who look away and half smile when called “beautiful”

She looked at her cellphone clock for the fifth time in those spare fifteen minutes between Italian and the next lesson. Her punctuality was almost paranoiac. It was already time to go to her Projects lesson, but she stayed sit in the bench. She kind of didn’t want to go to the next class, well, who would? Layla updating her whole lovesick one sided drama with Ed, Alyssa being a lovely bitch frenemy, and the teacher telling to keep working and working on pointless stuff. The only good thing was Lolita, the sweetest cupcake of a person and her real bestie even if she would never say in front of Alyssa, and Darren, beautiful stoner hippie-like guy, Gala would never dare to flirt but it was still hot to watch. The worst for her was his teacher trying to argue with her about why she should work, she knew she had to do it anyway, but she wasn’t changing her mind. At that time, she thought that if you already have an idea, it was just a pretention to keep drawing stuff, just so that you can brag about concept and stupid things that don’t really relate to solutions. Gala wasn’t a troublemaker, but in class, she always had an opinion. 

Sometimes, she couldn’t stand being a youngster, and all the stupidness that were carried with that. She might have been insecure about her personality and looks, but she knew she had brains, and had no trouble in showing.

She decided she could save that and call it a day, since that day it wasn’t an expo or new topic, she could skip the arguing, and the bitching. She went home, it was still early and it was a Friday. College was near Gala’s mini house, well more of a flat, so she always came walking even if she had a car. She loved to walk home, with the sun on her skin, the pink long flowers and chamomile plants at sides of the street, and the cars zooming noise when passing her. The combo of sun, and noise and movement made her deliciously remember on how intense and lingering it all felt when high. 

Her Friday? Pop corns and Fellini films. For the design faculty at LU, Gala was our typical party girl, not the glam type one, but the junkie trashy one. She was for them, who would come to lectures on Friday’s with shades and last night’s skirt. But in reality, Gala wasn’t as crazy as they thought, she was calm and flowing inside, she was like the sea. And like the sea, she could too make a storm, but she hasn’t done so a lot lately. She’d had enough those summer vacations.

In the sea, she bewildered, she shouted, “fuck you” all around the port town, she made up with three guys, same day. She drank, and she drank and drank, like a sailor. In the city, she danced in the street singing drunken old songs, she gave the finger to the passerby with half body through her friend Mike’s Lincoln window, she stole the dj’s baseball cap, just to throw it in her drunkenness. That was supposed to bea quiet summer with her grandpa’s for Gala, but of course, since her parents weren’t there at the end she pretty much gave a shit. She thought it wasn’t that bad, at least she didn’t do drugs. That would have been too much for family vacations.

But lately, Gala wasn’t herself, the others couldn’t reach her on Thursday’s to smoke weed, and she came home early on Saturdays, she wasn’t for this time the one calling the gang for the party, she didn’t get wasted when driving, she turned off her phone some Friday’s. That was weird for everyone, most for Alyssa and Lola, because Gala was their girl, the one who turned up at midnight to make a random plan, and end up wasted, smoking weed or doing LSD at some stranger’s house. Alyssa thought she was becoming the stupid boring bitch she was when she first met her, the quiet sweetheart Gala fresh from the south. Lola was happy she was healthier; she was more responsible, because she knew Gala had potential, and party wouldn’t unleash it. But she missed her best friend; she missed the random craziness and the creepy stories Gala made up to freak them out when high. And she knew something was going on, because between her smiling and goofiness, she looked out the window sometimes, when she though no one was watching, with the saddest eyes ever made. 

Lola was quite the perceptive person, and she was conscious and quite ashamed about it, but she though Gala’s struggling was too obvious to anyone. Lola loved Gala, because she was so un self-conceited, she thought no one was really watching her ever, so she expressed physically in such an honest way. That made up a lot her trouble to face things and be sincere.

Lola was the other way round. The love she felt inside her made it explode with all people she knew. She was kind of shy, but her need to express all of her good vibes to others always won. She liked people, she knew without reading all the philosophy books that the best thing for a human being was another human being, and that all the good or bad you do to another person, is a simple reflection of how you see yourself. 

She wasn’t selfish at all, in fact she almost never thought about herself, but it didn’t matter to her because she knew she loved herself as much as her surroundings. And because of all the love, she was a genuine friend of a lot of people. 

Lola didn’t even know it, but she had a special connection with something deeper of the people, maybe its soul. Gala admired her extremely; she thought her best friend was the most wise and grown person ever. Lola was a lot what Gala really wanted to be, free of the mundane pains, intuitive, connected, and human. 

But she never felt she ever connected completely with anybody, not even Lola. She felt so strained and so lonely most of the times, and sometimes the thought of never belonging haunt her all nights and days. It wasn’t she felt better or worse than others, foremost, she never felt she could be herself anywhere, not even when she was a kid she felt a part of something. In her adolescent years, it was even harder. She just felt so weird.

And even if for a moment the party world seemed to be where she belonged, now she found herself bored at her favorite bar, avoiding to say hi to the people she had met previously there, not accepting the free beers that came along with being a girl. 

But the truth was that she often, very often, missed wildness, feeling like a reckless punk and the MGMT songs playing at 10:00am next day, when party was over. But at the same time, she didn’t missed being hurt, again and again by that one boy, who didn’t promise anything but always gave a something, she didn’t missed the feeling of how deceived she was when she learned he was quite different. But she didn’t know what to be, what to feel, she just knew she needed to break it all for real. And she felt she was changing, at rage, she felt she had to change. But this wasn’t some spontaneous thing, Gala knew what, when and why.

She sat on the couch, laptop and blanket, and popcorns with spicy Valentina sauce, and orange juice, that could never be missing. No one was at home. Her roomie, Kayla, was never home, and Gala felt lonely. She grew up going every afternoon to grandma’s home and playing with her 3 cousins and her sister, it was like that every day and when they grew up, it changed to going to the cinema and the park almost everyday. She was kind of shy and not too talkative, but she loved people, and she missed it all. She said to her mom she wanted a dog, mom answered “get a boyfriend instead”. Hah, as if. 

La Dolce Vita, that was it this time. Gala wasn’t that artsy, to tell the truth, and most Fellini’s films she considered impossible to understand. That didn’t matter, the scene of “la Fontana di trevi” was one of the most beautiful things you could ever watch, despite of whichever weird meaning. She loved Fellini’s, she loved the shades and the little cars, she loved Marcello Mastroinanni’s face, and last but not least, she loved la lingua Italiana, it was so romantic. But in fact, she was more the chick flick and rom coms type, despite of her adoration of heavy industrial boots and nailing things in wood, and her wall. 

She sat there watching, but as always she fell asleep. There was a permanent blanket on the couch, her favorite spot to sleep for when she was arriving from college or when she was arriving wasted/high as fuck.

Kayla arrived at noon, tired from doing homework all day at school. Well, she was an architecture student, what did she expect? But she did really want to sleep so badly, at least an hour. Talking about sleeping, Gala was sleeping on the couch, again. She smirked. Every time she arrived, Gala was at the couch. Sleeping, or watching TV, or doing god knows what in her laptop. She was the graphic image of a couch potato, with her popcorns, the laptop on the floor and the TV in front. Except that Gala was slim, lucky girl. There was something so effortless about her punk looks and basically everything she ever did, that was why she liked Gala so much. For a fan of aesthetic, someone so un conceited and unaware was amazing. 

Kayla got upstairs, to her room, to imitate her roomie and sleep. She kind of missed talking to Gala; they could talk for hours about the most pointless and geeky stuff, even if they had become quite different, they were still the nerdy best friends from elementary school. She fell asleep in her bed without having dinner, but she’d probably wake up in two hours to have dinner and keep doing homework. Architect’s life was sad. 

“Kylie”, as everyone liked to call her, was one of Gala’s oldest friends. She was definitely something to look up: unlike her roommate, she had been two years studying out of home and had never got drunk, she spend her days studying and reading manga or books, she was a miyazaki lover and her music taste was somewhat broad: she had in spotify from Artic Monkeys to Avril Lavinge, and she wasn’t ashamed of being herself at all, though she didn’t really realize. And she loved her dog, Little Max, a huge Labrador golden. 

Her room was a portrait of that, all green and black, from the blankets to the green lamp hanging, and the white walls covered with posters, concert tickets, drawings (Gala’s too), pictures, and infinite list of stuff. But it still looked tidied; Kyle had a natural sense of order since she was an architect at heart. 

Quite geeky, in the most interesting way: She’s read all the good books, listened to all the good cd’s, and of course all the good movies, she was always watching movies. But it wasn’t to feel cool; Kylie never cared about being cool even when her high school classmates mocked her for being a nerd.

She was actually the one who introduced Fellini to Gala. And although she never realized, she was the great example of how emotions, sense and order could merge perfectly, because she was a sensitive girl, she could shut up about a lot of things but she could feel and perceive things that normally, others couldn’t, and she was brave enough to reflect her emotions in her works, even if people called her baroque or childish, she was definitely special. And on the other hand, she had the determination of doing the things that should be done: going to congress, organizing her homework, doing teamwork. Gala knew how much potential was in her, and she was somewhat proud of being part of her life. 

The house was already dark when she woke, except from the light coming from the studio at the top of the stairs. Now it was Arcade Fire, like every week at 8pm when Kylie started doing homework.

She decided to join her, not actually to talk, but to start sketching her ideas. She loved to sketch and let it go. think and think again. But then she felt the idea out of place, so she went walking around the house, then sitting, trying to sleep, wake, sketch, repeat. It was kind of her creative process. 

Gala woke up to Lola’s ringtone in one of her laydowns on the coach. She doubted a little to answer, but it would be rude if she didn’t.

-Hey lolz

-¡Galii! Ma frieeend, how are you?- Lola said in a slow, happy tone. 

-Ok, you are clearly drunk little Lola, where are you?

Gala put on her coat and grabbed the car keys. A favor for a favor, now it was her time to grab the drunken bestie. But before she got into her car, Rick and lola appeared in his car, ready to party kidnapp her...

 

   
Two am. Hair flying in the night cold wind. Short hair. Goldenish. Dirty green eyes, smiling to the wind. Hands dancing, music flowing. A car with its sunroof opened. If it weren’t that this time they had money, gas and music, it would almost be a déjà vu. Same hysteria and same girl in the sunroof, and same car, but something was quite different… Aly wasn’t there, but it was better like that. 

Gala danced, slowly, to the cars passing and the wind flowing. Rick crazy driving, making Gala hit her hips to his shoulder at the curves, of course on purpose. She was euphoric. Everyone was, cheap rum and tequila had done their jobs quite well. Gala moved her lips, sexily and unconsciously, she wanted love…. Or well, making out, without realizing quite well.

She just knew she wanted to go to Hookah Loola, find some good looking good fucking guy and make out, never sex as always, and then go back home. Get a little wasted, get a little hot.

Remember how Gala had changed? Well, you’re probably thinking this crazy bitch can never change, but hey, she didn’t do drugs this time, and she didn’t even wanted this, but that’s the way things go.

5 hours earlier she was doing homework, thinking, and thinking how. "How" was her hidden favorite word, how you do this, how is it made, how will it work… how. And while “how” ing, she was sketching, she was vomiting her idea, she was fine. A little frustrated, she decided to lie on her coach, then wake, then lie, and then wake…. But the concept did never arrive. House ring sounds, and while she open, she sees the car. Richard (Rick’s) car.

Rick actually wanted to go home. He loved partying with Gala and Lola, at some extent. But he knew that when Gala danced out the sunroof, she wouldn’t fucking stop. And he hated leaving them both to some random guy, even if it was always them who ditched him for some random good-looking strangers.

Gala went again in the car and told him, so close and so quiet that it could have been a whisper, “let’s go to Hookah”.

Rick didn't answer, in fact all he wanted was to leave them all home safe and sound, and go to his girlfriend, sweet Cara.

-Don’t be a pussy, fucking fatty.

Oh god, how he hated her calling him fatty. She didn’t realize how much mocks hurted when they where real, because he really felt fat. He called her ugly, but she knew she wasn’t ugly.

-Well, fuck it let’s go.

Everyone in the car clapped and shouted. They were going out. In the car there were Victor, Nate, Lola, Rick and Gala. They were all good friends from the first semester of college. And they almost laughed about how it was so different now.   
Nate and Victor used to be serious alcoholics, now they never go out and have girlfriends. Rick, god knows how because he wasn’t hot at all, now got a sweet girlfriend he loves but before her he fucked all the fuckable girls of their grade, except for those two dancing in the sunroof. Gala used to be your naïve fresh lettuce from the south beaches, and although she quite stopped, she had gained the title of THE wild one. Lola, well she hadn’t changed that much, apparently.

Rick remembered how the cops, way to 14th street where all their favorite nightclubs were, always stopped him. Gala used to say his car was damned, and one day while going for munchies after smoking weed, she told him a story about how a Chinese guy from the BMW factory got attached to the last piece he made after death. He made her sleep at his home after that, of course he crashed his own couch and Gala took his bed.

They entered the nightclub, Gala and Lola went right to the dance floor, and the guys went for some beers. The DJ kept staring at Gala, because he knew her, they made out once. He thought at first she remembered him but was playing dumb after he introduced himself again, and then after two or three times saying hi she just stopped looking his way. Such a crazy bitch, in a different way but still a crazy bitch like everyone else. 

But she was in a good mood, he saw, dancing like if it was 1970. Smiling and playing dumb with her friends. Wathever, he would just keep playing, or he tried. He couldn't stop looking at that girl, she wasn't the prettiest or the best dancer or anything, but she had a something. He closed his eyes and felt the music, pushed the buttons. That was his only calm down thing, playing. And he was quite good at that.

He played, and felt the people and had a good time. He felt the vibes of everyone, and he traduced them into music. That was his great magic. He was quite the well paid dj of town, but he didn't care, he just needed to play for people, make and transform his reality through music. The girl was dancing like if there was no tomorrow, he knew he had her someway, because he could always drop the spell on her. He could drop the spell on everyone. And everyone was dancing like crazy, that little alternative bar was more than full. But no one really felt it, anyone needed personal space under a magic spell. It was amazing. 

Even Rick now was having a good time, even if at first he didn't want to be there. The night was amazing. With a feeling of the old time, when they were all single and couldn't give a shit. He wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend, but he liked to remember what it was like to be that free, to have a give zero fucks attitude. "The dj is real cool" he thought. 

The dj asked for a beer and a couple of shots, and then a little coke. The music just kept going better and better. Everyone in that moment didn't gave a shit about anything, in life, business, school, whatever. It was the perfect situation to forget about it. And he though, not so wrong, that it was because of him, his vibes and music. "Fuck it" he thought. Today he would have the girl, no matter how cold, she had to like him a little, he was the dj. But when he looked around, his dancing queen had dissapeared. 

"Damn" he though. Well bad timing, maybe next time. He didn't even remember her name so well, it was something weird, like a party... oh, he remembered "Gala"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. xo

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! this is my first chapter, and I probably have a lot of mistakes at writing and stuff. I really hope you guys like it! It is a deeply personal story


End file.
